


Dean Winchester is a Big Baby

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Destiel/ Cockles Shorts [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Doctor Sexy M.D., Fluff, Friendship, Illnesses, Love, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Protective Sam Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a big, whiny baby and it's getting on Castiel's last nerve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester is a Big Baby

       Castiel slumps out into the study and plops himself across the table from Sam. The young Winchester looks at the heavenly being as it fidgets and sighs, grumbling choice words in a language he can’t quite decipher.

      “Everything alright, buddy?”

      Cas looks across at the boy, frustrated as if it all should be so obvious. “ _No_. Your brother is an insufferable child when he is like this!”

      Sam looks back to the book in his lap, chuckling before taking another sip of his coffee.

      “I’m so happy you find my complete and utter loss of sanity _amusing_ , Sam.”

      “I just think you’re going a little over the top … I mean, Dean can be whiny at times but—”

      “But inflict him with the common stomach flu and suddenly he’s Dudley Dursley!”

      Sam looks up from his book once more, squinting at the angel while setting down his cup.

      Castiel rolls his eyes after waiting too long for a response, leaning forward to gaze widely at his friend. “Dudley Dursley was the obnoxious, spoiled child in J.K. Rowling’s beloved Harry Potter ser—”

      “Yeah, yeah, Cas. I _know_ who he is … I read the books.  I’m just a little shocked _you_ know who he is.”

      Castiel leans back in his seat and stares off to the side of the room, shaking his head in annoyance. “Well, _my_ knowledge of all written and cinematic arts was put into my head by the scribe of God, so—which one of us is _more_ likely to not know minute details about pop culture?” the angel asks, shooting Sam an indignant glare from the corner of his eye.

      The young man finally tosses his book onto the table and straightens up in his chair. “ _Wow_ , man. Dean really _does_ have you in a mood. You’re being a dick.”

      Castiel sighs and lurches forward, dropping his face into his palms and groaning loudly. As if on cue, his phone chirps with a text message. The angel of the lord lets out another, painful growl while reaching blindly into his pocket to retrieve the device. “My apologies, Sam. I do not mean to take my frustrations out on you, but your brother …” he illuminates his phone and reads the text message, “your brother has had me running around _all_ day, doing literally _everything_ for him—he wants me at his beckon call for every minor upset. I honestly _do not know_ how you managed dealing with him all these years. “

      Sam smiles to himself, looking down at his folded hands—scarred, calloused, marred by years of abuse—but _alive_. “Well, _believe me,_ he was dealing with _me_ far more than I was dealing with him.” His head shoots up as he hears the angel scoff.

      “Well, I find that hard to believe because this text is asking me to come back and change the television channel for him. _Apparently_ , the Dr. Sexy M.D. marathon has ended and now it is only infomercials for a hair removal product.” The angel sighs, looking back at his phone. It rings out again with another message. “ _Oh_! And _now_ he is saying that his feet are cold. I know _for a fact_ that there is another blanket on the chair at the side of his room. _I put it there!_ He can’t get up and retrieve it for himself?”

      Sam laughs a little with his friend’s complete unraveling. “Well, I guess he must be feeling pretty crappy to be so needy.”

      “The man has saved the world numerous times! He has battled demons and even became one! He has actually died! _More than once_ , mind you! But a common, human virus is his undoing? I do not understand it, Sam! If Michael knew that his vessel could be so easily deterred, he may have reconsidered you two for the apocalypse!”

      The room grows still as the angel’s tirade settles. Sam let’s his mouth gape as he considers everything that his friend just vented. His thoughts are interrupted by another chirp of the angel’s phone.

      Castiel moans as he stares at the screen. “ _Oh_! Here’s an update that is certainly note-worthy! Now your brother’s _belly hurts_. Why does he feel the need to tell me this fact _every_ five minutes? The virus causes the human stomach to constrict as it attempts to expel the antigen. _Of course_ it will be painful! It is a common attribute of the flu! This is not news to me! Why must he share it?”

      “Man, I don’t kno—”

      Another text sings through the air.

      “Now, he is emphasizing that it _really_ hurts, and he may vomit.”

      “Dude, I _really_ didn’t need to know tha—”

      More chimes burst from Castiel’s phone.

      “He said he just spit up a little and it looks green.”

      Sam grimaces, thrusting out his hand in a desperate gesture for his friend to stop talking. “ _Okay_ , dude … _I get it_. He is over-sharing and whiny. You don’t need to make _me_ suffer with you!”

      Castiel puts his phone face down on the table and pushes it away, hoping that will somehow make the messages stop. “I am sorry, Sam. I don’t know why this is upsetting me so. I have dealt with much larger, more strenuous issues than this.”

      “Well, taking care of someone uses more patience than _fighting_ someone” Sam offers, thinking back to all the people he has attempted to look after in his time— _all the people he’s failed_.

      “True.” The angel sinks, drowning himself in the collar of his coat. He quiets a moment before looking back to Sam, softening his eyes as he inhales a long, low breath. “Again, I am sorry—I should be looking to you for council, not as the sounding board for my aggression.”

      Sam begins to smile, forgiveness dancing on the tip of his tongue but Castiel continues.

      “After all, you must be an expert in this matter. I can’t imagine the complaints you have had to endure with the numerous injuries that man has obtained. You must have gone completely out of your mind.” Castiel’s focus glides off into the distance as he thinks about Sam’s apparent struggles. He suddenly snaps back to the man in front of him. “Is _this_ why you turned to drinking demon blood and became an abomination to your kind? I could understand something like _this_ inhibiting your judgment to such a degree.”

      Sam feels the heat crawl up his neck as the understanding he once felt boils into bitter venom. “ _No_ , Cas. Dean did not _inhibit_ my _judgment_ ” he hisses, pinching his face until he’s razor sharp at every angle.

      Castiel cocks his head to the side as he questions Sam’s response. “Oh. Well, that would have been a good excuse. Maybe you should say that in the event anyone ever queries you on it.” He sighs and looks back at his phone, seeming almost surprised that it has stayed quiet for this long. “I really do not understand his behavior, Sam. He is one of the strongest individuals I have ever known; _yet_ —he is acting as if he were on the brink of a torturous death.”

      The young Winchester huffs a moment, deciding to let go of his frustration— _after all,_ the angel rarely knows when he’s being offensive. He pushes forward in his chair and locks onto Castiel’s face, ensuring that the guy is truly listening and not on the verge of another tangent about his shortcomings. “Look, Cas. _You’re right_ , Dean is strong. I honestly have never seen him like this before, but … it would make sense that I wouldn’t.”

      Castiel leans into Sam’s words—his curiosity winning out as usual. “How do you mean?”

      Sam smiles, feeling it become more genuine the longer it stays on his face. “Dean has always felt responsible for me … for our Dad … for _everyone_. He carries that weight with him and has carried it since the day our mom died. He absolutely hates looking weak around me, because he knows, if he’s weak, then I could be in danger. He’d never risk that. _So_ —he would bite his lip and tough it out and never, _ever_ complain.”

      Castiel nods, looking down towards the steam curling out of Sam’s mug.  He turns his eyes up again after lingering long on his next question. “So, _why now_? Are you saying he no longer worries about your safety?”

      “Ha! _No_ , he will _always_ worry about that! I’m an _abomination_ , remember?” Sam raises a smug eyebrow at the angel, causing Cas to look away sheepishly. “Dean will always worry about everyone else, never allowing anyone to worry about _him_. _Well_ … anyone but _you_.”

      Castiel snaps back to Sam, widening his eyes as he starts to put together the pieces of this verbal puzzle.

      Sam chuckles around his friend’s obliviousness. “No one has been around to take care of him, man. Right after our mom died, he had to grow up. He was our dad’s right hand man and _my_ protector. No one took care of _him_ until the day you pulled his ass out of hell—it was at that moment, he discovered he had someone he could really lean on.”

      The angel lets his lips part as his eyes dance along the air between him and the young Winchester, pressing in the final pieces and seeing the whole picture for the first time. “You are saying then, Sam … he is complaining like this because, he _knows_ I will listen … I will take care of him?”

      Sam grins, reaching out to pat his friend’s arm. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, buddy.”

      Castiel smiles softly, first at the boy across the table, and then down to himself. His phone chirps once more. The angel reaches out and turns it over, swiping his screen to read the new text message.

      “What does he want now?” Sam asks, picking up his cup again and taking a long gulp of his cooling coffee.

      Castiel beams, still staring at the phone in his hand. “ _Me_.”

***

      “ _Cas_ , where have you been?” Dean groans into his pillow the moment the angel starts to walk through his door.

      “Apologies Dean, I was speaking with Sam on some things.”

      Dean only groans louder in response.

      Castiel shuts himself inside the man’s room before walking towards the bed, making sure to grab the extra blanket just as he reaches the Dean’s side. He drapes the quilt over his friend’s feet, making him give a weak, half smile before rolling back over and scooting aside to make some room on the bed. The angel sits on the edge, quickly kicking off his shoes and climbing in completely. Dean closes his eyes and crawls into Castiel’s side, wrapping his arms around the angel’s middle. He sniffles loudly against Cas’s ribs, nuzzling his face in deeper and moaning out in pain.

      “Are you not feeling any better?”

       Dean huffs and pouts, gripping tighter to Cas’s chest.

      “Would you like me to get you anything?”

      Dean finally sighs, lifting his head and slitting his eyes open to look up at his angel. “No, man. Thanks though … I know you’re probably not having a blast putting up with me right now.”

      Castiel smiles, lifting his hand to stroke the top of Dean’s feverish head. “I don’t mind. It is about time someone took care of _Dean Winchester_.”

      The man coughs and snorts up some more flem before burying his face back into the threads of his angel’s white shirt. Castiel chuckles to himself, melting into the warmth and weight, pushing against his side. He looks up from the man and about the dim room, loving how he now knows every detail; because he spends nearly every morning lying beside Dean, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake, memorizing every feature on his face, every flinch of his body, committing it all to the depths of his mind, because he will _always_ want to remember these happy moments—he wants to remember them forever.

      “ _Cas_?”

      The angel bends down to kiss the crown of Dean’s head. “Yes, Dean?”

      “I think I’m gonna puke again.”

      He smiles, gently lifting the man’s tired arms off his stomach so he can slide out of the bed. “Hold on, I’ll get the bucket.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second installment to my Destiel Daily Drabble series I am posting on Tumblr.
> 
> Find me there at: castiel-left-his-mark-on-me


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